Cerynia

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2023-10-24

last seen Yesterday at 12:13

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Ruìsāng Sū

Affinity

Icon

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/48/56/f4/4856f411575b26c4cc83b9a1ec89a9c1.jpg[/img]

Relationship

[b]so bite your tongue[/b] and choke yourself to sleep

Nickname

Sāng

Age

Birthday

14 / 12

Gender

Male

Height

174cm

Occupation

Bartender & 4th year bachelor (hospitality management)

Place of Birth

Fènghuáng

Sexuality

Gay

[h1]Appearance[/h1]Ruìsāng stands tall at 174 cm, exuding confidence that adds a touch of charisma to his presence. His hair, a bold blend of blonde with a striking crimson streak, is effortlessly tousled, creating a distinctive look. The vibrant crimson hue of his eyes often sparkles with a playful glint, adding to the intrigue. His fair complexion complements a slender yet athletic build that suggests hidden strength.

When it comes to fashion, Ruìsāng leans towards a casual yet tasteful style. A worn leather jacket, its sleeves casually pushed up to his elbows, serves as a signature piece. However, this fashion choice doesn't just make a statement—it reveals glimpses of bandages and scars, with bandages now fully covering his right hand and lower arm.


[h1]Scars and marks[/h1]Ruìsāng's skin is adorned with a map of scars and marks, each telling a story of fights and hardships. Across his chest, four dot-like scars encircle his heart. The remnants of claw marks trace a path from his collarbone to his heart.

His right hand, wrapped in bandages, conceals scars that suggest his hand was torn to pieces at some point.

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/53/0e/a4/530ea4a89e15732cffdacecdc632ef24.jpg[/img]

[h1]History[/h1]
[b]// TW: Abuse, addiction, violence.[/b]
His early years were a living nightmare, a battleground where his mother's tormented cries and his father's tyrannical rule painted the grim canvas of his childhood. Teachers saw the bruises, the silent pleas in his eyes, but their awareness amounted to nothing. Nothing changed.

At the age of six, a cop with a shred of decency noticed the bruises on his face. Plucked from his hellish home, he was thrust into a labyrinth of foster homes, each a unique hell. Sāng adapted, mastering the art of deception. A smile on his face, he played the poster child, but it was all a façade. Inside, he remained a broken mess.

Custody returned to his mother, offering a fleeting moment of normalcy. But good things were ephemeral, especially for someone like him. His mother's heartbreak led her to addiction, shattering any semblance of stability.

Sāng became a master of pretense. Teachers thought him resilient, but behind the smiles was a kid barely holding it together. The fear of being torn away again gnawed at him, but he juggled school and jobs to keep things afloat.

His breaking point arrived when he witnessed an abusive partner in his mother's life. Fueled by a familiar hatred, he rebelled, refusing to let another tormentor hurt his mother.

Sāng's anger was a ticking bomb, exploding when he punched a brick wall in a dingy alley. That's when he met someone who'd seen too much but emerged intact. He offered an outlet for Sāng's aggression—a place where fists could fly without judgment.

This place echoed with the sound of fists on dummies. It felt liberating. For the first time, he sensed a loosening of the coil of anger within him. He returned, letting loose on dummies until his knuckles bled.

At nineteen, things escalated. Invited to something "more exciting," he found himself in an underground Pokémon fighting ring. The power these creatures held fascinated him, offering a twisted sense of control.

Seeing a Houndour tear into another Pokémon clicked something inside him. He voiced his desire for a Pokémon, and they handed him a Mawile—a handful but a potential powerhouse if handled right. They clashed initially, but they found a messed-up balance. She thrived in battles, relishing violence, and he let her. They fought together, pushing each other's limits.

Life remained a turbulent storm. He navigated the wrong crowd, balancing fights, lousy jobs, studies, and the responsibility of caring for his broken mother. It wasn't good, but it was survival, and in his world, that was enough.

i shouldn't have done a deal with the devil, but i was desperate